


Alright

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 07:21:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3241160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bofur comforts another dwarf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MocaJava](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MocaJava/gifts).



> A/N: Drabble for anon’s “Bofur, due to his extreme sweetness and upbeat nature, has become the company's go-to guy for comfort. Need a cuddle, or someone to talk to, Bofur is there. Bonus for Dwalin being particularly worried/stressed out one night and using Bofur as a teddy bear while he sleeps” request on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/13429.html?thread=24665205#t24665205).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Bofur hears Dwalin coming before he sees it. Like most of them, he’s opted to sleep in the gold: the great halls of Erebor are all impressive, but the mounds of treasure are delightful, and even with the dragon-stink still clinging to them, their draw is undeniable. Bofur knows the footfalls of all his companions by now, and he recognizes Dwalin’s sturdy gate even through the mass of coins. 

They all know each other like the backs of their hands, but Bofur probably knows them the best, because he’s the one they all come to when they’re sad. This journey’s been trying, but when it gets too much, he’s usually the one to offer a cheery song, to pat his friends on the back, to point out the silver lining. He’s given more hugs in the last few months than he did in years back home, and he wouldn’t have missed this journey for the world. 

Even if it’s ended rather poorly, dead dragon or not. He spent all afternoon with his arm around Balin’s shoulders, comforting the poor soul. He can’t count how many times he told Bombur the lie that it’ll be alright, that Thorin will come to his senses, that Bilbo will be allowed back. Before he curled up in his own hill of gold to sleep, he had to wrestle his way out of Fíli and Kíli’s double hug, wishing them sweet dreams all the while. Now it’s Dwalin that trudges up behind him, settles deftly down in the gold, and sighs heavily enough to make the ends of Bofur’s hat dance out in the breeze.

Bofur’s half laden in dreams and doesn’t move, expecting Dwalin to just scoop him up from behind—they all know it’s okay. He’s perfectly fine with being the group’s teddy bear, but Dwalin might be too respectful, or too proud. 

So Bofur forces himself back to the land of the living and rolls over to face his friend, squinting through the darkness. A few rare, far off torches help him see the sorrow etched into Dwalin’s strong face, and Dwalin mutters quietly, “Tell me he’ll come out of it.” It’s a simple, blunt request, and Bofur does just as he’s asked. 

“He’ll come of it.” Reaching a hand to clamp around Dwalin’s bicep, Bofur adds, “All this treasure is enough to get to anyone. But Thorin is a great man, and he’ll come through.”

Dwalin nods. He’s one of Thorin’s staunchest supporters, a dwarf who would follow Thorin to the edges of the world, but none of them saw this madness coming. The whole mess with Bilbo and the Arkenstone has turned their king into a monster, and the fact that it’s crumbled even Dwalin’s resolve isn’t a pretty one. 

But there’s no good harping on the misery, and Bofur gives Dwalin a big, sincere smile. At least they’re here. They have the gold, they have each other. Things aren’t so bad. 

Dwalin’s lips twitch like he wants to smile back, but he’s just too moody and down. 

He’s the one to move first, though, reaching across the distance to wrap his big, thick arms around Bofur’s smaller form. Bofur lets himself be pulled in and yawns against Dwalin’s broad chest, his hat nestling half beneath Dwalin’s chin. The side of it makes a nice pillow against the hard coins. Dwalin, like most of the dwarves, doesn’t seem to mind the jagged bed. With Bofur in his arms, he slowly relaxes: Bofur can feel the tension ebbing away. 

Bofur rubs a few soothing circles around Dwalin’s back before he’s too tired to move at all, and by then, Dwalin’s sound asleep, cuddling Bofur tight like the little toy teddy bears Bofur used to carve for children.


End file.
